Lord Liverpool's Cabinet
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Welcome to this site
Hello. My name is Martha Sherwood and I'm making an attempt to set up a blog. If successful it will be primarily a place to post essays on political and social topics based on the careers and Parliamentary speeches of the Second Earl of Liverpool (1770-1828, Prime Minister of Britain, 1812-1827) and various members of his cabinet, notable Lord Castlereagh.
Below is an example
The Lurch
This essay was something I wrote for an Alcoholics Anonymous publication – whether they will print it or not, I do not know at present. I thought the analysis might be of interest to the Paleopsychology group, since it touches on more general topics than addictive behavior.
“The Honorable Member for Norfolk has done me the courtesy of saying that he will not leave me in the lurch. He should rather take care that he does not leave HIMSELF in the lurch.” –Marquess of Londonderry on the Report of the House Committee on Agricultural Distress, May 5, 1822.
That the above quote is not AA conference-approved literature goes without saying. That it is relevant to my own sobriety, let alone to anyone else’s, is far from obvious, and requires some explanation. I personally feel that the relevance, or at least the potential relevance, of any fact or opinion to any other fact or opinion is a corollary of the (conference-approved) axiom that nothing happens in God’s world by mistake. Ergo, if I, a recovering alcoholic in Eugene Oregon, happen to be struck by a phrase uttered in the course of an obscure debate in the British House of Commons nearly two centuries ago, there must be a reason for it.
The circumstances were as follows: Due to falling agricultural prices, farmers were experiencing financial difficulties and were pressing Parliament to afford some form of relief. The Agricultural Committee reviewed various petitions and statistics, and agreed upon a bill providing government funds to warehouse grain, an early example of agricultural price supports. This bill met with stiff opposition in the House of Commons, and was eventually withdrawn. As a member of the committee and also House majority leader, Lord Londonderry felt obliged to introduce and defend the bill, even though he himself had not supported it in the committee. He considered (and this is a basic principle of a representative government, often violated at all levels) that once a deliberative body reaches an agreement, all of the members of that body are obliged to support the decision, even if they continue to privately have reservations. Hence the Member for Norfolk, had he withdrawn his support, would have been leaving himself (as a member of the committee) in the lurch.
The dictionary defines “the lurch” as ‘an extremely disadvantageous position.’ In the game of cribbage, being ‘left in the lurch’ is synonymous with being ‘skunked.’ Somehow, when I hear the term, I picture a seedy bar in a bad part of town, from which some erring intoxicated husband calls home, saying ‘honey, come pick me up, my friends have left me in The Lurch again.’
Many alcoholics are fond of referring to their garbled thought processes as ‘the committee upstairs,’ or sometimes ‘the shitty committee.’ They conceptualize their decision-making as the product of warring and discordant voices acting at cross-purposes within their own consciousness. Possibly this is merely an exaggerated form of something which every sentient being experiences to some degree. An acquaintance of mine, a trilingual Russian immigrant, used to argue with himself in three languages, each representing a different persona. In extreme cases of multiple personality disorder, different aspects of consciousness assume distinct identities which are not fully aware of each other, but one does not have to be clinically insane to have multiple personalities. All adults were once children, with childlike personalities which at times still surface, bidden or unbidden. Those of us who hit low alcoholic bottoms generally feel that our personalities have changed considerably in sobriety, but that that old drunken Mr. Hyde still lurks beneath the surface, to be readily resurrected if we resume drinking. Our work personality may be quite different from what is displayed to our family, and changes of career or spouse may also involve considerable displacement of personal identity. All these identities are valid components of the whole, and all potentially participate in making major life decisions.
It may be that a well-integrated sane person who has led an uneventful life is possessed of a personal committee, all of whose members agree instantly. For my own part (and I believe I speak for many recovering alcoholics) I struggle with the cerebral equivalent of Lord Londonderry’s agricultural committee, in which the various selves have quite different approaches to problems, and no one point of view predominates overwhelmingly. A strong emotional reaction may, for example, fly in the face of fiscal prudence. At what point to I sacrifice my budget to my emotional needs?
If the committee upstairs simply refuses to function, the result is paralyzing indecisiveness, depression, and, for this alcoholic, a strong urge to anaesthetize myself. Rather than cease functioning, it would be better to abandon any pretense of autonomy and turn the whole process over to a hopefully benevolent dictator, such as a treatment center. Another option, if I were satisfied that one of the personalities, acting alone, was reasonably functional, would be to allow that one mastery. On a temporary basis both of these options work, but on a long-term basis any dictatorship depends for its existence on a fallible individual, and, by sacrificing flexibility to efficiency, sows the seeds of eventual failure.
The alternative to anarchy or dictatorship is some sort of democratic process however, if the committee upstairs is completely democratic, either the strongest party will dictate to the others, or no point of view will command enough to support to prevail. There is no way for a pluralistic system to simultaneously maximize individual autonomy and group cohesiveness, without recourse to a higher power.
That higher power may be an explicitly constructed God, defined by texts of an organized religion. It may be a set of mutually-agreed upon cultural norms. The higher power may or may not exercise any actual temporal authority; indeed, those powers whose authority depends on the voluntary submission of the individuals involved are more stable and effective than those which maintain their authority by brute force.
As an American I feel that one of my difficulties in conceiving of my actions as being conformable to the will of God is the lack of experience with a monarchy, and especially with a constitutional monarchy in which very little can be done without the acquiescence of both the monarch and a substantial consensus of the people he rules. An essential feature of inserting a higher power into a basically democratic system is acknowledgement that the loudest, or most aggressive, or numerically predominant segment of the collective does not always espouse the best solution for the whole. It is sometimes more advantageous in the long run for the majority to voluntarily concede a little, than for the minority to be compelled to concede a great deal.
What has all of this to do with self-sabotaging behavior – with ‘leaving oneself in the lurch’? Self-sabotaging behavior is one of the greatest pitfalls alcoholics encounter in early sobriety. Is such behavior not the aggrieved minority opinion in our personal committee urging us not to play, not to commit the necessary resources to implementing our decisions? Do we make a tentative commitment to something with time constraints, at the same time failing to plan and adhere to a schedule? Do we make extravagant, unrealistic promises to ourselves and others, knowing them to be impracticable, rather than promises we know we will have no excuse for not fulfilling? Is our decision, although technically practicable, so unacceptable to some key member of the committee, that he can never be brought into substantial agreement? We need to be aware of our limitations, and not build plans which exclude some important part of self, or attempt to fit it into a role for which it is utterly unsuited.
I have also heard alcoholics liken their psyches to a bus, and speak of decision making as choosing who will drive that bus. Imagine, then, our metaphorical committee on a bus, or better yet, on a sailing ship, since this is 1822. At any given moment, the active participation of at least some members of the committee is required, or no progress is made toward the destination. The Captain can’t make it alone. Some, but not all of the people on this voyage are capable of taking charge. As long as all is smooth sailing, it matters rather little who the leader is or how much confidence he inspires in others. When a storm hits, however, it becomes critical that someone has established himself as an authority that the others obey willingly. By analogy, to avoid leaving ourselves in the lurch – to avoid having some insubordinate crew member abandon his post – we need to have exercised our decision-making faculties in small matters, until we have confidence in ourselves in large ones. We need to become aware of principles. Since we seldom if ever experience the ultimate higher authority directly, we need to learn to recognize its manifestations in the environment and in the human community. The person we select to drive the bus had better be able to read the road map.
The Report of the Committee on Agricultural Distress illustrates another aspect of decision-making which tends to get overlooked in the computer age. Most major life decisions resemble the famous traveling salesman problem, otherwise known as the London cabbie’s dilemma. The question posed is: what is the shortest route touching at a large number of points in a complex grid of streets or roads? In theory, the problem can be solved mathematically; in practice, the volume of calculations required to do so quickly overwhelms the capacities of even powerful computers, and in real life, unanticipated events can quickly undo the best theoretical plans. An experienced salesman, on the other hand, can rapidly map out a route which is certainly close to the optimum one, and several alternatives which work. He does not waste time quibbling about fine-tuning a plan he knows is adequate, unless he is reasonably certain that the superior solution will justify the extra effort required to arrive at it.
As the event proved, it was not necessary for the Agricultural Committee or Parliament to do anything, since the market was already adjusting itself spontaneously. Many difficult situations are analogous – they appear most insoluble precisely at the point when things have begun to change for the better. Especially when we feel we have lost control, we tend to ignore signs of improvement at least as stubbornly as we earlier ignored signs of impending disaster.
An effective internal saboteur, having devised and executed a plausible foul-up, then maximizes the damage by calling an inordinate amount of attention to what has gone wrong, while studiously avoiding whatever aspects of the original plan are operating smoothly, or at least have not failed in major ways. This member of the committee is constantly complaining. He may blame himself, but more commonly he shifts the blame to those who accepted greater responsibility, often his parents. If this were a prelude to his assuming a leadership role, some good might come of it. There are times when changed circumstances make it desirable for one personality to step down in favor of another. The internal saboteur, however, is a perpetual rebellious adolescent who has never learned to be a responsible leader, a conscientious follower, or a cooperative worker among equals. In a robust system, he may have his place – after all, there are dangers in becoming too complacent – but, if the committee is operating under stress, and must make important decisions rapidly under circumstances when the correct course is not obvious, it is best to put this member in his place, which is where he is least involved and can do the least harm. Then, however assiduously he attempts to leave us in THE LURCH, we will still have enough alternatives to find our way to our destination in one piece.
Martha Sherwood-
Below is an example
The Lurch
This essay was something I wrote for an Alcoholics Anonymous publication – whether they will print it or not, I do not know at present. I thought the analysis might be of interest to the Paleopsychology group, since it touches on more general topics than addictive behavior.
“The Honorable Member for Norfolk has done me the courtesy of saying that he will not leave me in the lurch. He should rather take care that he does not leave HIMSELF in the lurch.” –Marquess of Londonderry on the Report of the House Committee on Agricultural Distress, May 5, 1822.
That the above quote is not AA conference-approved literature goes without saying. That it is relevant to my own sobriety, let alone to anyone else’s, is far from obvious, and requires some explanation. I personally feel that the relevance, or at least the potential relevance, of any fact or opinion to any other fact or opinion is a corollary of the (conference-approved) axiom that nothing happens in God’s world by mistake. Ergo, if I, a recovering alcoholic in Eugene Oregon, happen to be struck by a phrase uttered in the course of an obscure debate in the British House of Commons nearly two centuries ago, there must be a reason for it.
The circumstances were as follows: Due to falling agricultural prices, farmers were experiencing financial difficulties and were pressing Parliament to afford some form of relief. The Agricultural Committee reviewed various petitions and statistics, and agreed upon a bill providing government funds to warehouse grain, an early example of agricultural price supports. This bill met with stiff opposition in the House of Commons, and was eventually withdrawn. As a member of the committee and also House majority leader, Lord Londonderry felt obliged to introduce and defend the bill, even though he himself had not supported it in the committee. He considered (and this is a basic principle of a representative government, often violated at all levels) that once a deliberative body reaches an agreement, all of the members of that body are obliged to support the decision, even if they continue to privately have reservations. Hence the Member for Norfolk, had he withdrawn his support, would have been leaving himself (as a member of the committee) in the lurch.
The dictionary defines “the lurch” as ‘an extremely disadvantageous position.’ In the game of cribbage, being ‘left in the lurch’ is synonymous with being ‘skunked.’ Somehow, when I hear the term, I picture a seedy bar in a bad part of town, from which some erring intoxicated husband calls home, saying ‘honey, come pick me up, my friends have left me in The Lurch again.’
Many alcoholics are fond of referring to their garbled thought processes as ‘the committee upstairs,’ or sometimes ‘the shitty committee.’ They conceptualize their decision-making as the product of warring and discordant voices acting at cross-purposes within their own consciousness. Possibly this is merely an exaggerated form of something which every sentient being experiences to some degree. An acquaintance of mine, a trilingual Russian immigrant, used to argue with himself in three languages, each representing a different persona. In extreme cases of multiple personality disorder, different aspects of consciousness assume distinct identities which are not fully aware of each other, but one does not have to be clinically insane to have multiple personalities. All adults were once children, with childlike personalities which at times still surface, bidden or unbidden. Those of us who hit low alcoholic bottoms generally feel that our personalities have changed considerably in sobriety, but that that old drunken Mr. Hyde still lurks beneath the surface, to be readily resurrected if we resume drinking. Our work personality may be quite different from what is displayed to our family, and changes of career or spouse may also involve considerable displacement of personal identity. All these identities are valid components of the whole, and all potentially participate in making major life decisions.
It may be that a well-integrated sane person who has led an uneventful life is possessed of a personal committee, all of whose members agree instantly. For my own part (and I believe I speak for many recovering alcoholics) I struggle with the cerebral equivalent of Lord Londonderry’s agricultural committee, in which the various selves have quite different approaches to problems, and no one point of view predominates overwhelmingly. A strong emotional reaction may, for example, fly in the face of fiscal prudence. At what point to I sacrifice my budget to my emotional needs?
If the committee upstairs simply refuses to function, the result is paralyzing indecisiveness, depression, and, for this alcoholic, a strong urge to anaesthetize myself. Rather than cease functioning, it would be better to abandon any pretense of autonomy and turn the whole process over to a hopefully benevolent dictator, such as a treatment center. Another option, if I were satisfied that one of the personalities, acting alone, was reasonably functional, would be to allow that one mastery. On a temporary basis both of these options work, but on a long-term basis any dictatorship depends for its existence on a fallible individual, and, by sacrificing flexibility to efficiency, sows the seeds of eventual failure.
The alternative to anarchy or dictatorship is some sort of democratic process however, if the committee upstairs is completely democratic, either the strongest party will dictate to the others, or no point of view will command enough to support to prevail. There is no way for a pluralistic system to simultaneously maximize individual autonomy and group cohesiveness, without recourse to a higher power.
That higher power may be an explicitly constructed God, defined by texts of an organized religion. It may be a set of mutually-agreed upon cultural norms. The higher power may or may not exercise any actual temporal authority; indeed, those powers whose authority depends on the voluntary submission of the individuals involved are more stable and effective than those which maintain their authority by brute force.
As an American I feel that one of my difficulties in conceiving of my actions as being conformable to the will of God is the lack of experience with a monarchy, and especially with a constitutional monarchy in which very little can be done without the acquiescence of both the monarch and a substantial consensus of the people he rules. An essential feature of inserting a higher power into a basically democratic system is acknowledgement that the loudest, or most aggressive, or numerically predominant segment of the collective does not always espouse the best solution for the whole. It is sometimes more advantageous in the long run for the majority to voluntarily concede a little, than for the minority to be compelled to concede a great deal.
What has all of this to do with self-sabotaging behavior – with ‘leaving oneself in the lurch’? Self-sabotaging behavior is one of the greatest pitfalls alcoholics encounter in early sobriety. Is such behavior not the aggrieved minority opinion in our personal committee urging us not to play, not to commit the necessary resources to implementing our decisions? Do we make a tentative commitment to something with time constraints, at the same time failing to plan and adhere to a schedule? Do we make extravagant, unrealistic promises to ourselves and others, knowing them to be impracticable, rather than promises we know we will have no excuse for not fulfilling? Is our decision, although technically practicable, so unacceptable to some key member of the committee, that he can never be brought into substantial agreement? We need to be aware of our limitations, and not build plans which exclude some important part of self, or attempt to fit it into a role for which it is utterly unsuited.
I have also heard alcoholics liken their psyches to a bus, and speak of decision making as choosing who will drive that bus. Imagine, then, our metaphorical committee on a bus, or better yet, on a sailing ship, since this is 1822. At any given moment, the active participation of at least some members of the committee is required, or no progress is made toward the destination. The Captain can’t make it alone. Some, but not all of the people on this voyage are capable of taking charge. As long as all is smooth sailing, it matters rather little who the leader is or how much confidence he inspires in others. When a storm hits, however, it becomes critical that someone has established himself as an authority that the others obey willingly. By analogy, to avoid leaving ourselves in the lurch – to avoid having some insubordinate crew member abandon his post – we need to have exercised our decision-making faculties in small matters, until we have confidence in ourselves in large ones. We need to become aware of principles. Since we seldom if ever experience the ultimate higher authority directly, we need to learn to recognize its manifestations in the environment and in the human community. The person we select to drive the bus had better be able to read the road map.
The Report of the Committee on Agricultural Distress illustrates another aspect of decision-making which tends to get overlooked in the computer age. Most major life decisions resemble the famous traveling salesman problem, otherwise known as the London cabbie’s dilemma. The question posed is: what is the shortest route touching at a large number of points in a complex grid of streets or roads? In theory, the problem can be solved mathematically; in practice, the volume of calculations required to do so quickly overwhelms the capacities of even powerful computers, and in real life, unanticipated events can quickly undo the best theoretical plans. An experienced salesman, on the other hand, can rapidly map out a route which is certainly close to the optimum one, and several alternatives which work. He does not waste time quibbling about fine-tuning a plan he knows is adequate, unless he is reasonably certain that the superior solution will justify the extra effort required to arrive at it.
As the event proved, it was not necessary for the Agricultural Committee or Parliament to do anything, since the market was already adjusting itself spontaneously. Many difficult situations are analogous – they appear most insoluble precisely at the point when things have begun to change for the better. Especially when we feel we have lost control, we tend to ignore signs of improvement at least as stubbornly as we earlier ignored signs of impending disaster.
An effective internal saboteur, having devised and executed a plausible foul-up, then maximizes the damage by calling an inordinate amount of attention to what has gone wrong, while studiously avoiding whatever aspects of the original plan are operating smoothly, or at least have not failed in major ways. This member of the committee is constantly complaining. He may blame himself, but more commonly he shifts the blame to those who accepted greater responsibility, often his parents. If this were a prelude to his assuming a leadership role, some good might come of it. There are times when changed circumstances make it desirable for one personality to step down in favor of another. The internal saboteur, however, is a perpetual rebellious adolescent who has never learned to be a responsible leader, a conscientious follower, or a cooperative worker among equals. In a robust system, he may have his place – after all, there are dangers in becoming too complacent – but, if the committee is operating under stress, and must make important decisions rapidly under circumstances when the correct course is not obvious, it is best to put this member in his place, which is where he is least involved and can do the least harm. Then, however assiduously he attempts to leave us in THE LURCH, we will still have enough alternatives to find our way to our destination in one piece.
Martha Sherwood-
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